The Dual Priest Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

And here I am, you thankless whore
I have been with you once before
you may not be the lowest scum
I may not look, to you, the bum.
I have no mores and love you whores
your perspiration fills my pores
the shrink said I was seeking pain
and for my soul I should abstain.
I cannot help myself in this
so come and give me a whore's kiss.

Said he, who stood on purple pulpit
and with the choir boys would gulp it,
the wine, the blood of God's own son
he took the money, thought he'd won
the nationwide gold lottery
it gave him licence to be free
and in the dark of night he climbed
up to the room where often chimed
the clock made in Bavarian village
it also was part of his pillage.

For many years he led a life
without a true, official wife.
But God sent pangs of consciousness
into his mind in bitterness,
he wanted him to pray and think
instead he traded God for drink.